Arthur's Speech
by Abyss et Tara
Summary: Arthur's son has been taken, and he'll do anything to get him back. But first, he has to speak to his men. One shot inspired from "Le Pacte des Marchombres" by Pierre Bottero.


Hello everybody ! First, you have to know that I'm French, and this is the very first story I publish in English, so please, DO NOT BE NICE TO ME ! Point every mistake, anything wrong, and I'll correct it.

Then you have to know that I did not write the speech Arthur make in this fanfiction. I took it from a book by a french writer, Pierre Bottero, that, as far as I know, has not been translated in English, which is a shame. I only adapted the situation to Merlin's characters so it would fit. The book is called in French "Le Pacte des Marchombres", which could be translated by : "The Shadewalker's Pact".

This is a one shot, but if you like it, tell me and I might reveal you how it all ended.

I can't know what's wrong if you don't review. You all know what you have to do

Thanks to **larasmith** who helped me correct spelling errors.

Disclaimer : I don't own anything. The characters belong to the BBC and the situation and the speech belong to Rageot edition.

* * *

He was dead inside.

Arthur rose slowly his eyes toward the sunset. He could hardly see the lights through the leafs of the enormous trees, and the camp was covered by darkness. Frightened to be discovered by the enemy, he had gave the order to light no fire, and, though winter was already gone, it was still very cold. He had gave the order to be as quiet as possible, but he could hear around him the noise of five hundred men setting to share a poor meal that was supposed to give them strenght for the battle to come. Five hundred men. How many would still be alive in a day ? How many still had to die for this madness ?

After…

Arthur could see then.

And he could hear.

And he was cold.

Nevertheless, he was dead.

He was dead inside.

He had died with her.

No. With them.

Gwen and Gwydre.

His wife and his son.

All the future he had built with them, gone, in a clap of the hand.

And he had died with it.

Eventhough his heart was still beating.

Eventhough he was breathing.

He was dead.

He was dead inside.

No one had been expecting the attack.

The kingdom had been in peace for three years already. Nothing really bad had happened. The kingdom was richer than ever. The people was happy. He was happy.

After three years of marriage, the queen had gave him a son. Gwydre. His birth had been celebrated through the five kingdoms. Arthur had never felt so good.

Before his happiness was torn away from him.

It had been so long that he had though that it was over, that she had gave up, that she was never coming back.

He had been a fool.

Nobody, then, had been expecting the attack. The kingdom was defenceless when her troops had reached the castle. Nobody had seen them coming. They had easily broke their defences. And they had begun their slaughter. Killed Elyan. Killed Gwaine. Killed so many of his knights. Killed…

Arthur closed his eyes. He was dead. What was the point to keep going ? It would be so simple to just lay down here, and to let her finish what she had started. He was just so, so tired…

He shook his head.

Arthur was dead, but he was still alive. Oh, hardly. Just a bit. A little, a tiny peice of life, hanging on to the shadow of a hope. Because, if he had not anymore doubt, although they hadn't found her body, that his wife was dead, a dying enemy had gave him, in his last breath, the information he needed to keep on breathing.

Gwydre could still be alive. Acording to this soldier, his son was prisoner of Morgana, that intended to use him as bait. Of course, it could be a lie. But him, Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, both dead and alive, wad going to fall right into it. But maybe not in the was his dear sister expected him to.

Arthur oppened his eyes and looked once again at the assembly gathered at his feet. Five hundred men, separated into three distinct parts that wouldn't mix. Most of them were Camelot's foot soldier that, he knew, would obey blindly every of his orders. A bit further, what was left of his knights had sited into a large circle. They too, keen to avange their brothers death, would not go back. Only the last group was causing him troubles. It was made composed of about fifty men and women. Fifty sorcerers.

Arthur couldn't believe he was reduce to that, to have to use magic to have his son back. But he didn't have a choice. Morgana had at her disposal her own army of sorcerers. What had surprised him was to find fifty sorcerers ready to fight for Camelot, the same Camelot that had been hunting them down for so long.

Arthur's eyes stopped on a skinny shape in the ranks of the sorcerers. Merlin. His servant had shown himself to be baffling. He had helped Arthur when the pain had paralized him. He had pushed him forward, despite the tears on his cheeks and the pain in his own eyes. He had suggested to use the magician. He had found almost every one of them. And now, although he had always shown fear toward everyting that touches magic, he was the only one to find the courage to go and talk to them. Yes, indeed, Merlin was baffling.

Next to Merlin, chatting with him, was what seemed to be the unofficial leader of the magicians. Galaad. Arthur could hardly concieve that someone like him had needed to study magic. Galaad was young, no more than eighteen years old. But he was already a giant. He was taller and more impressive than Percival, the tallest and most impressive man Arthur ever had the chance to meet. He had seen him lift up huge rocks and uprooted a tree with his bare hands. He didn't talk a lot, but when he did, his hoarse, deep voice comanded respect. And Merlin was talking to him just like he was anyone.

One more time, Arthur shook his head.

Tomorrow would be the day of the last fight. Many would be the man to die and, if officially he was leading this attack as a king and not as a father, all these people had come for him.

He had to talk to them.

Gritting his teeth, he walked to the group of sorcerers. When he reached them, all the conversations stopped. Merlin got quickly on his feets.

''_Sire_'' he said

But Arthur ignored him and spoke to Galaad.

''_I need your help. I'd like you to come with me, to enlighten me and, if necessary, to amplify my voice. Could you do that ?_''

Without a word, Galaad stood up and went with him.

Arthur climbed on a big flat rock from which he could see the whole camp. Thanks to a word from Galaad, he found himself surronded by a clear white halo of light. The soldiers, previously eathing, turned in his direction.

''_Companions of fight, brothers knights, friends sorcerers'' _he said, turning first to the soldiers, then to the knights, and finally to the magicians_, ''I know most of you and most of you know me. For the rest, I am Arthur Pendragon and if your number forbids that I hear your names, know that to each and every of you I offer tonight my gratitude. A gratitude that reaches the honnor you make me by joining me. A gratitude that reaches the debt I know have to you. An infinite gratitude._''

He looked at the silent crowd, and then he kept on :

''_I have the pride to say that many time I have led you in the battlefield for fights that saw us offer without blinking our strengh and our blood to preserve the ballance of Camelot. On those battlefields, faced enemies that were stronger than us, wilder than us, more numerous than us. But every time we won. And do you know why ?_''

Soldiers, knights and sorcerers were know standind up, listening with devotion the words of the man that was, to every warrior in Albion, a legend.

''_Because the life of a companion of fight has always been more important that ours, because if we are a hundred to fight a thousand enemies, our hundred hearts beat on the same rythm, carried by the same sense of honnor. We are hundreds to face thousands, but in reality we are one and that one cannot be defeated !_''

Arthur rose his fist, stopping the ovation before it started. When he pursued, his voice was so loud that Galaad stopped amplifying it.

''_We have so many time defied death, so many of us have fallen that it's a miracle that we're still alive. But, and you know this, companions, miracles don't last_.''

He pointed to the crowd.

''_You, maybe, and you. And you. And you over there. But it does not matter, because tomorrow you will fight for honnor and for friendship, you will fight because you choose it. Tomorrow, we wil be many to die, but tomorrow, once again, we will be invicible !_''

He stopped talking and, for a long time, the assembly remained silent.

Then a sorcerer in the bottom line rose his arms toward his face and, with strength, claped his hands. He did it again, at a slow rythm and, one by one, his fellow magicians joinded him.

To this wild noise was suddenly added a metalic sound. The knights were hitting their armour on the chest. The soldiers entered in the game by slamming their swords against their shields, and the night broke into pieces under the strengh of this tribute.

Five hundred men.

One only beating.

Like an enormous heart.

As long as it rang, and it did for a long time, Arthur stood there.

Though he was dead, he was still overwhelmed.

Among the sorcerers, Merlin clapped his hands one last time. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he wasn't trying to hide them. In front him was standing Arthur, the Once and Future King. His friend. If Merlin had ever doubted of his destiny, he knew kow that it was about to get acoomplished. Fate was in march. Soon would come the time of the revelation. But, for the first time, he was no afraid.

Tomorrow could come.

He was ready.

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Wanna say anything ? Just review !

Abyss


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